The Fools Of Remington Street by: Megan Hinsberg

A light breeze weaved through the strands of my blond hair, making me shiver. There was nothing prettier than a quiet city at five in the morning. An empty city filled with empty people.

Carefully, I sat on the ledge of the building, wrapping my leather jacket tightly around my body as another gust of wind hit me right in the face. I prayed the wind didn’t end up knocking me off the building. That wouldn’t be pretty.

London was very beautiful- especially at night. Probably because there were no people around to ruin the beauty. I had come to the conclusion that we’d eventually destroy Earth. Our own home. We were basically a bunch of unforgiving douches uprooting the trees that try to keep us alive. Not only do we destroy the trees, but our own kind. Murderers. Rapists. Thieves-they’re all just damned souls that were sent to the Earth. And they’re ruining it.

I snapped out of my daze and scanned the empty streets below me. There seemed to be something moving. It blended with the shadows and I squinted, trying to get a better look.

The silhouette seemed to take the shape of a human; it walked with confidence only a true bastard could pull off. There was something familiar about his posture. His stance. Yet, the moon only provided so much light.

The figure slipped through the door of a nearby pub with a snake-like slickness. I couldn’t take my eyes away from the door.

I gasped as a familiar sound echoed off the buildings.

A gunshot.

I’ve been in enough attacks and battles to know what it was. I jumped to my feet just as a gust of wind made my hair fly off of my shoulders. I felt my heart wrench out of place as I nearly lost my footing.

I quickly recovered, and sprinted down the ancient brick stairwell. I didn’t even think about gripping the railing before I tripped over my own white sneakers. I went flying down the stone steps, thankfully not having my head come in contact with the hard cement. I knew I had attracted attention because a boy clad in all black came sprinting around the corner, holding an assault rifle. This boy was no doubt a minion of King Stephen. Sitting on a silver slate atop his bulletproof vest were several numbers printed in bold black ink. Yeah, definitely working for the King.

The only features visible through his dark ensemble were his caramel brown eyes and dark skin. He yanked my hair back, pointing his weapon at my temple. I quickly smacked the gun away, giving myself time to grab his arm and yank him forward. He stumbled into the wall as I jumped to my feet.

I swerved around the corner, bursting through the doors of the modified building. As soon as I stepped into the street, I gasped at the chaos. Mothers and Fathers were being shoved to the ground, watching their children being gunned down. The King’s League was attacking. There was no doubt about it.

The sun was rising and I couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. Sunrises were seen as beautiful, yet what was happening now wasn’t beautiful. It was terrifying.

A gunman ran into a small bank, lugging his gun through the door. Glass shattered and blood splattered. I noticed a girl with blue hair duck behind a counter just as another gunman with a mask fired. I stepped into something mushy and dark. I instantly gagged and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to mentally erase the image from my mind.
No. I had seen worse than this. I had killed worse than this.

I shifted my attention to the right side of the street, where the vacated pub sat. There were piles upon piles of dead bodies scattered around the road. I locked eyes with the same figure I had seen strolling down the street earlier. Definitely familiar. Definitely a bastard.

“Hello, love.” Unlike the other League members, he didn’t wear a mask. “It’s been a while.” He smiled his crooked smile and pointed the gun at me, leveling the barrel with my head.

There was no-where to go. If I moved, he would shoot me. If I didn’t, he’d shoot me. He was the King’s right hand man and no one could escape his fury- his hate. He grabbed my arm and escorted me back up the building I was sitting on only moments before. He held the gun to my head even as I walked solemnly up the stairs. Suddenly I was shoved toward the edge of the building, the gun was buried into my back, forcing me to move forward. My stomach lurched as I saw the view. Only moments ago, it was peaceful, but now it was horrifying.

Should have packed a gun, dammit.

I kept my head down, not wanting to meet him in the eyes. I just stared into my favorite white sneakers. I wore them the first day of initiation, I wore them to my cousin’s wedding, and I’m wearing them now- where I’m about to die.

I barely had time to think before gloved hands shoved me toward the streets and I was falling. My arms were flailing, struggling to catch onto something. I could barely muster a scream before my body hit the pavement.

————————————————--Come back next month for chapter two-———————————————-